


A Memorable Distraction

by thicklipsanddiscohips



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: 18+, Dom/Dom, F/M, Lemon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Pre-Canon, Shameless Smut, Smut, Speculation/Fan Theory, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thicklipsanddiscohips/pseuds/thicklipsanddiscohips
Summary: LEMON/SMUT (highly graphic)A curious mirror in the den of the now-Dragon King and Queen, two of your long-time friends, leads to a surprising encounter with a strangely familiar Startouch elf, such as yourself. Upon entering the mirror via a ritual you learned long ago, the man you happen upon gives you a thrill you will remember.
Relationships: Aaravos (The Dragon Prince)/Reader, Aaravos (The Dragon Prince)/You, Aaravos x Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	A Memorable Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s one more lemon for the archives. Making the world a better place one smutty fanfic at a time.
> 
> P.S. Go back and watch S2E1 and tell me that Lujanne WASN’T talking about the Moonshadow Elves traveling into the mirror dimension/mirror realm where Aaravos is trapped! This story speculates off of my theory from that episode. I may update it as more info is released on him. We’ll see.
> 
> P.P.S. I really needed a dom/dom story in my life. Please-be-my-daddy-Aaravos is a dom with extraordinary stamina, don’t you think?

The lands that tethered living creatures to the Earth were dismal and cold. It appeared to be mid-winter, and the dawning of a new year. There was a light dusting of snow around Storm Spire, and more seemed to be on the way. It had been a long time since you’d returned to Earth — wandering the outer realms of interstellar space bore much higher enigmatic opportunities. The beauty of life on this world was however somewhat comforting.

As you inconspicuously soared through the atmosphere over the plains, the chattering minds of creatures below roared with jubilance. You listened to a few of the creatures’ dialogues to gather information on the present status of the world. It seemed that although the human and Xadian lands were still squabbling over power, it was the turning of a new age of dragons. Avizandum had been deemed most fit to be the new King of the Dragons ten years ago; if your memory served right, the time was also approaching the now-Dragon Queen’s, and one of your oldest friend’s, anniversary of birth. Perhaps your arrival would be quite timely. 

You descended through the sky to the pinnacle of Storm Spire and approached the entryway of the dragon’s dwelling. A young Skywing elf greeted you at the terrace just after the bridge.

“Hello,” she said cautiously. She seemed slightly taken aback from your company. “The king and queen don’t get too many visitors, much less from Startouch elves such as yourself. Unfortunately, Avizandum is patrolling the Xadian boarder, and Zubeia is off hunting. Were they expecting you?”

You shook your head and looked up to the summit of the mountain. “I dropped by to acknowledge the queen’s anniversary of birth. And perhaps to congratulate them on becoming royalty? It’s been roughly a century or so since I’ve seen Zubeia, however I was hoping she would accept my homage nonetheless.”

The Skywing elf eyed you vigilantly, but didn’t question you any further. It’s true the Startouch elves rarely spend time on Earth. Worldly feelings, possessions, and ideologies tend to weigh down esoteric travelers. 

“I know they’ll be back tonight,” she said, waiving her hand toward the entrance. “If you’d like to wait, I’ll show you to their den.”

“I believe I remember the way,” you reassured her, giving her a convincing smile. She shrugged and crossed her arms, then made her way to the pinnacle of the mountain.

“Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be at the top of the mountain.”

You nodded in her direction and continued into the entrance of the cave. As you neared the top of the large flight of steps into their den, you inhaled a deep breath of the thin air. The smell was older and darker, but it was the same scent you remembered of your longtime friends. Looking around, everything seemed the same…except for an enchanted mirror to your left at the bottom of the steps. You squinted to read the draconic writing inscribed in the wood around the glass. It seemed that there was something sealed inside the mirror.  You made your way slowly down the steps, gently brushing your hand along the unkempt pillars. As you approached the mirror, you remembered a key, a ritual, that a tribe of Moonshadow elves taught you long ago to open a portal into a shimmering world beyond life and death. It was a place of happiness then, but that was of course a time of happiness.

You reached into a bag around your hip and removed a small and porous rock that once belonged in a crater on the light side of the moon. There were a few left in your bag from your travels, and you figured this was a perfect chance to revisit Moon magic. As you crushed it in your hands, you closed your eyes and sprinkled the dust in an arc over your head, humming the harmonious tune to the ritual. As you stepped delicately in a pattern on the floor, the depth of the cavern around you disappeared. The air became heavier around you and the scent of the dragon’s den disappeared. There was no scent anymore.

You eyes fluttered open to the sight of the surrounding room where you now stood. It was a study, with a fireplace, bookshelves crammed to the ceiling with books, and a small but elegant silver-plated desk. You turned to see the mirror you just came through — it simply showed your own reflection as it had on the other side. Turning back to the room, you looked outside the opulent windows and saw the beautiful, shimmering sky that you remembered. You paced towards the brilliant colors that glinted down into the room.

“How could anything be imprisoned here?” you asked yourself quietly, running your hand over the window in reminiscence. “It’s such a joyous place.”

Your ear twitched. There was movement from behind the door to your left. You walked towards it and reached for the handles when it began to slowly swing open towards you. You stepped back cautiously.

“Hello?” you questioned, poking your head into the light behind the door. “Are you the one imprisoned here?"

A dark figure emerged from behind the door, shutting it behind them. It was a man — another Startouch elf, such as yourself. You saw his lurid amber eyes widen tenfold at the sight of you in front of him, however they narrowed quickly. He glanced at you, then to the mirror, and then back to you.

“How did you get in here?” 

The man’s bold and heavy voice reverberated through the room. A shiver traveled up your spine to the crown of your head. You couldn’t help but look down and bite your lip to stifle the strange feeling. 

The man’s hand jolted out and grabbed your chin to turn your face toward him. He brought your face centimeters away from his and growled, “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“I don’t think either of those things are important,” you responded through squished cheeks. “It seems you were sealed away in here. I’d assume for good reason.”

You eyed each other carefully. He was a good thirty centimeters taller than you, and shimmering freckles and symmetric markings lined his cheeks. His eyes were fierce and devious, but charming nonetheless. A lock of his hair fell gently off his shoulder, next to which you noticed the Star Primal tattooed on his chest. He seemed familiar…you two had met some time before. It’s been a long life thus far...

“Your name—” you started, searching your memory for his name and encounter. He let go of your cheeks and slowly brought his arm back down to his side. “We’ve met. You’re Aaravos, are you not?”

He studied you. His eyes traveled over your chest and back up to your gaze; you felt the need to cross your arms to protect them from his wandering eyes. 

“Yes.”

“My name is _____.”

He hesitated to respond. His expression was still hot with a lust to know how you arrived. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly to alleviate some of the hostility on his face. It subdued to a more playful smirk.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember your name,” he said, lightly pressing his fingertips together in an oval at his waist. “But, _____, you must forgive me with my brash greeting just now. It’s been a little while since I’ve had contact with anyone. That new King of Dragons helped lock me up in here a few years ago. You could say I’ve been lonely here in my prison.”

He looked longingly at a strand of your hair on your right breast and brushed it behind your shoulder. The rich tone in his voice reverberated through your body. Another tingle ran from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, and you hung your head slightly to hide your eyes fluttering. As you uncrossed your arms, he let his fingertips trail the outline of your body down to your waist. You shuttered at the prickling feeling delighting your nerves.

The feeling quickly dissipated. He yanked your waist towards his hips, making you snap your head up to meet his eye line. 

“Why did you come here, _____?”

Your eyes immediately widened at his abrupt question, but were too startled to answer. His hand traveled from your waist to your hip, and then down to your butt. He reached out his other hand to grab the other side; your face flushed with warmth. Your lips parted briefly, trying to muster an articulate response, but you quickly closed them and continued to feel his sizable hands knead your skin. 

He leaned close to your ear and purred, “Are you not in the mood to talk to me anymore?”

You couldn’t resist reaching out to just touch the irresistible man coming on to you... You leaned forward into his chest, resting your hand on his left shoulder

“You—” you began, breathing slightly heavier. You rolled your head back slightly so as to catch his peripheral sight. “I know your ulterior motive — you think I will free you from this prison. I’m afraid I can’t do that, regardless of how you flatter me.”

You felt him chuckle through his teeth before he began softly biting your earlobe. He ran his tongue down the small of your neck and let his hands glide up your tunic and back to your waist. You exhaled sharply so as to not let out any audible signs of pleasure. He suddenly picked you up by the waist, his lips still hovering above your neck. Surprised by his swift action, you lightly gripped his arms for support.

“As I said, _____, I’ve simply been lonely,” he breathed in your ear. “No ulterior motive. Trust me…”

You chewed at your lip once more at this strangely sonorous voice. 

“Wrap your legs around me, _____,” he whispered. 

There was playfulness in his tone, but it was steadfast. You did as you were instructed, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck for balance as well. It wasn’t your trust that he had in his grasp, rather the credence that your were indispensable to him so long as you both occupied this room.

You retracted your upper body slightly to view his face — he bore the same unsettling smile and devious eyes as he swiftly carried you to the small silver desk. As he set you on its surface, he made haste to gracefully lift your tunic and unfix your leggings. While one of his hands graciously clutched the small of your waist, the feeling of his other fingers lightly treading across your skin made your heart race in a frenzy you haven’t felt in ages. The suspicion you had for him began fading… Your breathing became heavy and staggered as you unclasped your hands from behind his neck and cupped his face with one hand. His expression remained unchanged as he effortlessly loosened his trousers' waistband. You repositioned yourself so that your pelvis laid just on the edge of the table, and pulled his face adjacent to yours. Your anxieties faded — you caved into lust. 

He angled his head, slightly shrouding his smile, and allowed the exquisite essence of his lips meet yours. He rolled his tongue over yours delicately, yet ardently.  As your fingers tangled white tufts of hair, his forefinger parted the soft skin around your entrance and his thumb circled your hood eagerly. The gentle pressure he applied to your clit made you gasp in satisfaction, forcing the resulting exhale to break your lips from his. You clutched his horn in your hand and tugged his head back, prompting a throaty growl in return. Your face was now hot with desire and his smirk had transitioned to a look of restraint; his eyes burned with impulsive passion and ecstasy. 

You swept your other hand down to his, and gripped his wrist tightly. As his palm opened to yours, you joined his middle and forefingers swiftly and shoved them inside of you. Your toes curled behind his back and your legs tightened around his waist; you couldn’t help but audibly cave into your pleasure. He obliged your hasty desire diligently — nimbly falling into a steady rhythm while continuing to roll your clit under his thumb. As he brought his lips back down to yours, you stretched your hand to your breasts and massaged each fervently under the thin cloth they were cloaked. Noticing this aggressive inclination, his tongue graced yours only momentarily, for he traveled down to your collarbone to first unclasp your tunic strategically with his teeth. In the midst of maintaining his consistent finger-play, he made his way to the underside of your slipover and pulled it slowly toward your neck, exposing your bare indigo skin.

The corner of his lips turned up playfully as his eyes danced over your exposed breasts, your hand now intermittently massaging one and tracing the outline of your areola. His fingers began to slow, and soon withdrew from you. His eyes darted to yours with a flicker of artful deviance. He leaned back and pressed his pelvis against yours — you could feel the exposed prominence glide up your natural crevice. It was so warm, so thick, and so full.

“Please,” you exhaled exasperatedly.

With a smile, he momentarily leaned down to lick your left nipple and playfully nip at the areola, He soon enough returned to stand as he was — rubbing his length against your lips, and prodding ever so slightly into you.

“I do love it when you beg like that,” he tittered.

You bit your lip and reached down to what he held in his hand.

“Please?” you begged, running your fingers over his length and guiding him to where he needed to be. “Please, Aaravos?”

His smile taunted your willpower; his eyes were so full of lust. His fingers flitted above yours, ready to take control.

“Pl—” you started.

He grabbed himself and pushed into you, filling every centimeter. He took your hips in both of his hands and began a fierce and steady motion. Your body tightened from his taunting temptation — your legs wrapped tighter around his waist once more and you let your arms hang off the desk above you as you cried out. You could feel yourself creating a natural lubricant for him already… 

You closed your eyes and brought your hands back down to him, lightly holding his ribcage as his torso moved with his pelvis. Perspiration beaded around your temples; your body was still tense from your first orgasm. He threw his head back and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it heartily. You slid your fingertips down to his waist and hovered above his hipbones, simply enduring his vigor blissfully.  The intensity with which he fucked you was absolutely sensational — each thrust was more consuming than the last… But you knew you wanted to preserve his endurance. You knew there was a chance this would be your last encounter.

“Let me take over,” you breathed, opening your eyes partly. Sweat had beaded around his forehead and collarbone such that strands of hair stuck to his skin. His biceps were rigid, but not yet strained. There was a passion burning in his eyes; the corner of his mouth turned up in excitement. His pace slowed gradually until he carefully slipped out of you.

“Of course,” he said, letting go of your chest. He stood and removed his tunic and trousers.

Watching keenly, you hoisted yourself off the desk. You quickly removed your remaining clothes, and treaded around the desk. You felt his eyes watching you intently as you pulled out the red velvet-adorned chair from under the desk. He followed your motive and made his way to the chair, tilting his head down and lightly chuckling to himself.

“What?”

“I remember you now,” he said, shaking his head. He gently tilted your chin to up and then held your face between his hands. “I can’t believe I’ve forgotten a body like yours.”

He kissed you zealously and ran his fingers back through your hair. After a few seconds of recollection, you couldn’t help but smile through his lips — it seems it had been a long time since you two had last met. You let your hands run over his now-nude body and grabbed his butt firmly.

Pulling back from his lips slightly you murmured, “Sit in the chair.”

“Mm... Yes ma’am,” he purred, letting his hands drop from your face. He sat and patiently awaited your next move.

You knelt to grip him and restore his lost size. Your hands worked quickly, bobbing and rotating methodically; shortly you integrated the same motion with your mouth. Every now and then, you glanced up at his position. His head was leaned back against the top of the velvet and his hands clutched the low-residing armrests. From your vantage, you couldn’t establish whether or not he was biting back his pleasure. It seemed as though he needed further convincing that he yielded his power to you for good reason…

You began to lessen your hold and withdrew him from your lips, licking his tip playfully as you released him. He rolled his head back to you as you stood steadily. His hands still tightly grasped the armrests, anxiously awaiting your next move. You turned to face the desk and ran your hands up your hips, stopping to circle your butt.

“Don’t make me beg, now,” he said.

He reached out to grab your hips and pulled you down on his lap. You shifted your legs on either side of his and managed to slip him back inside of you. His hands tightly held your waist as you began to bounce fastidiously. When you eventually settled into your rhythm, he began to synchronize his motion with yours. This new position had him penetrating you in a way he hadn’t before — the depth that he reached made you unable to stifle your cries. You clutched your breasts as they rose and fell with your motions. Your hair began to stick to your forehead, and you felt sweat beginning to prickle on the back of your neck and lower back. You knew you’d finish soon…

Your body felt heavy and your legs began to constrict. Your pace slowed considerably, but he wasn’t done yet — he gripped you tight and pushed and pulled you from him. Just when you couldn’t take anymore, you heard a strained grunt escaped his lips. He started to lift you off of him when you grabbed his hands.

“No—” you panted, “—finish inside me!”

Following your command, he let you rise and fall twice more when you heard him express a low growl. Exasperated, you gently leaned over the desk and felt his grip on your waist loosen. Both of you remained as you were for a moment to let the adrenaline recede. 

After you both had reposed yourselves, you gently lifted yourself up, allowing a gush of fluid spill from between your legs. Your body trembled as you exerted any amount of force on it; you sat gingerly on his thighs with your head resting on the desk. You felt his finger roam your back and travel down your spine.

“Was that better than the last time?” he asked.

You turned to meet his gaze. His head was propped up by his arm and his smile was sincere. You returned the smile and brushed a strand of his hair to the side of his face.

“I’d have to say this time was more memorable,” you replied.

The two of you sat quietly for a while as he rolled strands of your hair through his fingers. After a moment, he finally broke the silence.

“So,” he started slowly. “How were you planning to get out of here?”

You looked carefully at the mirror, and then at the pile your clothes sat in on the floor. He had a good point — it is going to be tough getting back through that mirror without him seeing the ritual. He hadn’t seen the moon rocks, so it should be no trouble doing it once he was out of the room. You pondered for a moment, still enjoying the soft strokes of his fingers in your hair.

“I think I may stay here for a little,” you finally said, turning to him. “How does that sound?”

His fingers stopped. He raised his eyebrow and smiled.

“Well, I suppose that would be nice.”


End file.
